“Cats swim better than you did there. Cats that really hate the water.”
I gave him a mock pout. “I thought you said I was getting better.”
“You are,” he said easily. “Now you swim like a cat that tolerates water.”
“Meow,” I said, making myself sound bored.
He chuckled. “Anyhow, you are improving. Let’s see that backstroke again.”
I put my goggles on and set off down the pool, with him cruising along beside me studying my every move. With any other guy I might have felt creeped out, or assumed he was studying my body more than my backstroke, but my former brother-in-law wasn’t like that. He’d helped me improve my pathetic swim skills a little when he’d come to the island where our show was taped as Kent’s “loved one” for the day, and before he left he’d offered to help me improve even more at home.
I’d always enjoyed Ron’s company, so I’d accepted his offer at once. Since he worked as a freelance web designer and I worked from home too, we were able to go in the late afternoon when the pool was mostly empty, and that was good because we often got silly. Ron had Kent’s good nature but was far more outgoing and chatty, and no other man had ever made me laugh so hard.
When I reached the end of the pool and paused to cling to the wall, Ron said, “You’re practicing without me, aren’t you? I only see you once a week, and I like to think I’m a good teacher but I’m not this good.”
I smiled, panting. “Maybe. I’ll never tell.”
Ron looked up at the lifeguard passing near us. “Does she come in when I’m not here, Beatrice?”
She’d obviously heard me because even though we’d said hi to each other every time I came in, a few times each week since the island, she said, “I’ll never tell either.”
We all laughed and Ron said, “A few more laps?”
I looked up at the pool clock and sighed. “Wish I could, but I’ve got dinner at my parents’ place tonight. I’d better get showered and ready to go.”
Ron nodded and hoisted himself smoothly out of the pool then crouched down in front of me. “Same time next Monday?”
Still holding onto the edge, I looked up at him, past his strong chest and into the green eyes he and Kent had in common. I liked hanging out with Ron, but it did bring back my memories of when I’d been married to Kent and had felt like a real part of his family. Their parents Ralph and Sunny had been so great to me, and as they were mellow hippie-types we’d connected a lot better than I did with my own hyper-achievement-oriented parents. I missed them, and Ron still felt like my big brother in a lot of ways.
“You got it,” I said, and scrambled out of the water with none of the grace he’d shown.
He got to his feet and extended a hand to help me to mine, and as I took it he said, “What are you doing April 3rd and 4th? Saturday and Sunday?”
I blinked. “I barely know what I’m doing next week never mind that far from now. Why do you ask?”
He gave my hand a squeeze, surprising me, then let me go and said, “Big swim meet. You’ve got four months or so, and if you want I bet you could be ready to compete then.”
I burst out laughing, assuming he was kidding, then made myself shut up when I realized he wasn’t. “Come on, Ron. As if.”
“He’s right,” Beatrice said. “You’ve really improved. And with all the time you spend here--”
She cut herself off, and Ron chuckled. “The truth comes out. I knew you were practicing without me. But that’s cool. And keep April in mind. I have faith in you.”
I smiled at him. I knew he did. And I liked it.
*****
I sat quietly at my parents’ dinner table that night, as always the brilliance around me dimming me so much that I couldn’t think of anything to say.
Mom finished off whatever she’d been explaining with, “And so, in the end, it turned out that electropalatography and ultrasound were the best methods for studying the acquisition of second language phonology after all.”
Dad nodded. “Logical.”
“Indeed,” Laurel said, and I nodded too as if I understood and bit my lip so I wouldn’t say something stupid. Talking to other people was easy. Talking to my parents and sister... they were so far ahead of me mentally that listening to them always left me with nothing on my mind to contribute but “panda bears are black and white” or something else equally obvious and stupid.
“And how’s your work going?” Dad said to Laurel, who launched into a description of how she was writing software with a purpose I didn’t understand in a language I’d have no hopes of figuring out and resolving issues I couldn’t imagine I’d even have noticed.
In any other family, I’d probably have seemed on the low end of average smarts-wise. In this one I was a panda bear at Princeton.
Laurel finally rolled to a stop, and I nodded with the others and took another helping of salad.
“That’s all you’re eating?” Mom shook her head. “You’re already so thin.”
I’d lost fifteen pounds on the island, but unlike my fellow castaways I’d made sure not to gain back more than a few of them. Getting on TV, maybe even getting my own show eventually, was worth turning down Mom’s lasagna no matter how good it was.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I like salad.”
“Vegetarians have more optimal levels of cholesterol and far reduced risk of cancer,” Laurel said. “Summer’s going to outlive us all.”
No doubt. I was too stupid to die.
Dad cleared his throat. “Any word on the career front, Polly?”
I hated that nickname. After he’d called me ‘pretty parrot’ a few times back in my teens beause I never stopped talking on the phone to my friends, Mom had pointed out that parrots were often called Polly. That had degenerated into an intellectual discussion on whether that was actually true, while I probably sat drooling, but in the end they’d decided that Polly was a better name for me than ‘pretty parrot’. I did agree, but that was like saying rice filled with bugs was better to eat than defrosted monkey brains. Having suffered through both things on the island, I knew neither was any good.
I’d never figured out how to tell him how much I didn’t want to be called Polly, though, so I said, “Well, I have a call in to a producer. Guy named Simon. He does a lot of movie star and musician interviews, gossip and fashion, that sort of thing.” I couldn’t bring myself to use the word ‘tabloidy’, as Peter had, since it was probably not a real word and my linguistics professor mother would lose her mind. “So that’s looking good. Peter, my show host, is also supposed to be calling me back, so we’ll see. Either way, though, it’ll probably be celebrity news and interviews.”
“Excellent,” Dad said vaguely, probably mentally back in his lab modeling his neurons or whatever it was he and his cognitive science students did all day.
“Really?” Laurel shook her head. “Following a bunch of idiot celebrities around. What’s the point?”
“People like to hear what they’re doing,” I said. “And sometimes even look up to them.”
Laurel’s snort earned her a sharp elbow from Mom. “It’s good,” Mom said, looking first at my sister and then at me. “Good work, Summer. It’s important to use your strengths.”
A big mouth and lots of cleavage. Yeah, I’d use those. What else could I do? What else did I have?
Chapter Four
“You like it, don’t you?” Aaron murmured. “Like having them looking at you.”
His tone made it clear he knew, so I gave him a slow smile and said, “Takes one to know one.”
He smiled back, then lifted my hand from the table and pressed his lips to it, and from the satisfaction in his eyes I felt sure we both heard the women at the table near us sigh in unison. We both heard it, and we both liked the attention.
We’d liked it on the day after the reunion show too, having breakfast in a cozy corner of the hotel dining room and pretending to ignore the staring and the photographing by the other hotel guests.
At the end of the meal Aaron had said, “We need to have a nice dinner together soon, gorgeous,” and since he’d been meeting his mother that night and I’d been seeing my family the next night we’d settled on tonight. I’d wondered whether he’d suggest somewhere private, like at my place or his, so we wouldn’t be stared at by everyone but even as the thought had crossed my mind I’d known he’d want to be out where we could be seen.
I wanted that too. I felt more alive when people were watching me than I did at any other time.
Aaron seemed to as well. He’d been high-energy on the show, but tonight he was nearly glowing and he was talking faster and making more jokes and touching me every chance he got.
I was returning the favor. In fact, I’d started things off by insisting on turning his hands over so I could see if he had any new tattoos on his wrists like another of MC’s exes had gotten. I’d known he probably hadn’t, but I’d wanted to touch him.
I wanted to do more than just touch.
Before I’d first had sex people had told me, “You don’t know what you’re missing.” I’d known that was true, obviously, but I hadn’t understood it until my wedding night. The sex itself had been great, but that feeling of amazing closeness, lying naked in Kent’s arms after we made love for the first time, had stunned me so much that Kent had been worried because I was so quiet. I’d loved the whole thing, though, every second, and in the year we’d been married I’d loved it every time, and in the two years since our marriage ended I had longed for it every day.
But though I was no longer a virgin I still didn’t want to sleep with just anyone. I’d heard too many stories of quick and disinterested men, and having experienced Kent’s care and focus on me meant I’d never be satisfied with someone like that. I didn’t want sex to be purely physical, since I knew it could be so much more.
Aaron, though... something drew me to him, and not just how good a kisser he was. I felt like maybe we could be more than a quick fling. Whenever we touched that feeling got a little stronger, and though I couldn’t imagine him wanting to marry me any time soon, if at all, I couldn’t help having some hope.
He picked up my other hand and kissed it too, letting his mouth linger against my skin, and I wrapped my fingers around his and squeezed. He squeezed back then let me go and said, “So. How goes the career, gorgeous?”
“It doesn’t, so far. I did talk to Peter but he’s just been assigned a new project and can’t help me right now.” I’d been surprised, and hurt, by how distant he’d been when I called. “His producer friend Simon, though... I’m flying to Vegas tomorrow to see whether we can work together.”
Aaron nodded, then winked at me. “Too bad I can’t come along. I love Vegas, and we could have fun there like we did last time. Or even more fun, maybe.”
The heat in Aaron’s eyes made it clear he was thinking of getting me alone in the bathroom again, or in a room with nobody else around, and while my body heated too at the thought I just grinned at him and said, “Nope, you can’t come with me. What if Simon is super sexy and you get in the way?”
Aaron laughed, then pouted. “Aren’t I super sexy?”
I ran my eyes slowly over what I could see of him as he sat at the table then returned them to his face. “You’re super sexy,” I admitted.
He grinned, and I went in for the kill. “But I’ve seen you before. Simon might be super sexy and new. Awesome combination.”
Aaron clapped his hand over his heart and gave a little whimper. “I’m old news? Already? Direct hit, Summer. Thanks a lot.”
I laughed and blew him a kiss.
“You’ll be back for Friday night, right? Kent and MC’s party?”
I nodded. “Do you know what they’re up to?”
“Nope. She was just insistent I show up.” He grinned at me. “I am the life of every party, so I guess that’s why.”
I rolled my eyes. “Have I told you you’re a legend in your own mind before?”
“Yup, but I love hearing it even though I’m not supposed to.”
I giggled, then we both turned as someone said, “Um, excuse me?” in a shaky voice.
The tiny blonde girl went bright red when we looked at her, and when Aaron gave her arm a squeeze and said, “What’s up, gorgeous?” her blush deepened so much I was afraid her cute little teenage face might explode.
“I... um...” Giving up on words, she thrust a small hot pink notebook and matching pen toward him.
“You want my autograph?” Aaron sounded thrilled. “Sure, gorgeous. Want my phone number too?”
“The cops will, if you give it to her,” I said, shaking my head at him then smiling at the girl. “She’s a bit too young for you.”
She looked very much like she wished she weren’t but she nodded without taking her eyes from Aaron as he scribbled his name and a note I hoped wasn’t criminal in her book.
“Thanks,” she whispered when he handed it back, then surprised me by offering it to me.
“Me too?” I said, hearing myself sound like how Aaron had sounded. With how excited she’d been to stand next to Aaron, I hadn’t thought she’d want to bother with me.
“I loved your red bathing suit on the show,” she mumbled.
Aaron burst out laughing, and I reached across the table and smacked his arm because she looked mortified.
“Thanks, honey,” I said to her. “I worked hard on making that. I’ve been working on suits all day, in fact.” I signed my name on a fresh page then sat for a second trying to think of something smart or helpful to add.
“Forgot how to spell it?”
I smacked Aaron again. “No, I just wanted to...” I wrote “Follow your dreams!” under my name then handed the book back to her while wishing I’d been able to come up with something better. Thinking of smart things on the fly had never been one of my skills, though. Having a smart mouth, sure. Smart thoughts? Not so much. “Here you go. Have a good day, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered, then managed to add, “You too,” before taking off.
“We always do,” Aaron called after her, grinning at me.
Her courage fired up another five or so people to come over and get us to sign things for them, and for a brief awesome moment I had the celebrity I’d always wanted as they stammered and told us how much they’d enjoyed the show.
All too soon, though, they were finished and left us alone, and I was just starting to feel disappointed at the lack of attention when a group of giggling women in their forties poured into tight jeans and low-cut sparkly tops arrived and spotted us.
“It’s you,” one of them shouted across the classy restaurant at us while her friends laughed and wobbled on their high heels. “Both of you.”
“She’s got us there,” Aaron said under his breath, eyeing the woman with an annoying level of interest.
“Kiss him, Summer,” she yelled at me. “Like on the show. Right on that sexy mouth.”
The restaurant’s hostess, looking horrified, attempted to calm the shouter and her cackling friends but to no avail.
Afraid the poor hostess would lose her job for their foolishness, and liking the idea of another of Aaron’s kisses in a situation where I couldn’t let things go too far, I got up and leaned over the table and planted one on him.
Like he’d done on the show, he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and held me close to keep the kiss going. Unlike on the show, he smelled of some sexy cologne, smoke and leather and darkness, and the hand in my hair was clean. As was my hair. Kissing him had been good enough on the island, even with both of us filthy. Now it was wonderful.
His fingers twisted in my hair as the kiss intensified, then he relaxed them and pulled away from me. “That enough of a show, you think?”
I sank back into my chair, trying not to show how turned on I was. “Yeah, I think so.” I looked at the woman who’d demanded the kiss. “Good enough?”
She held up a camera and grinned at me. “Perfect. Except that I’m not the one
kissing him.”
Aaron laughed. His dark eyes were lit with a hunger that sent amazing shivers through me. I did want him, no question.
But...
The women hurried over demanding autographs, and three of them pulled out business cards and wrote phone numbers on the back before giving them to Aaron. “You were so sweet to MC,” one said, as the others nodded. “I’d love to talk to you about it all some time.”
Clearly talking to me wasn’t in their plan, as I didn’t collect any phone numbers. At least two of them did ask for my swimsuit website so I wasn’t too devastated, although watching them all hit on Aaron right in front of me wasn’t the highlight of my night.
After we’d dealt with all the autographs and contact information, the hostess led the women away to be seated, fortunately in an area of the restaurant where they couldn’t see or talk to us any more, and Aaron said, “So, gorgeous, do you want dessert or should we go to my place for coffee?”
I tried to think fast. Going to his place wasn’t about coffee and I knew we both knew it, and saying yes would be saying yes to more than I was willing to do. But I did want to do more kissing. A lot more.
I must not have thought fast enough because he said, “I get it. You’d rather have Philip.”
I laughed. Philip did have sexy blue eyes that made a great contrast with his dark hair, but he also had a terrible attitude toward women and I couldn’t imagine he’d be more understanding than Aaron. “Trust me, no. Of all MC’s exes, he’s the worst.”
“What if I say coffee and actually mean coffee?”
I widened my eyes at him. “So you didn’t mean coffee last time? Then whatever did you mean?”
He winked, and I laughed and said, “Well, I would have coffee-coffee. If that’s okay.”
“Gorgeous, that’s just fine.”
Since he lived close to the restaurant he’d met me there, but I drove us back to his place, chatting with him about the poor little shy girl who’d wanted our autographs and the loud women, and as we turned into the driveway of a gorgeous red-brick condo building he said, “What do you want to bet that kiss will be on a gossip site tomorrow morning?”
Fifteen Minutes of Summer Page 3